Lest you run faster
by carlycarter
Summary: Helen Magnus/HG Wells Femslash Crossover fic. Set post 'Eulogy'  Sanctuary  and 'Time will tell'  W13  'She always believed she had been born before her time...'
1. Chapter 1

_For 'mayireadtoday 'who gave the prompt for this Magnus/Wells fic, and made many beautiful icons and you tube videos to inspire it :) Go check them out! _

_With my thanks and my hopes that you won't find it too disappointing. xoxo_

**Lest you run faster**

_HG Wells_

HG Wells pushes the panic right down inside of her, squashes it, suffocates it, refusing to let it take hold of her. She has no place for panic. She breathes in deeply, letting the exhilaration of long awaited freedom take over her. The excitement of the world around her. She shrugs off the utter terror of being in a place so foreign to her, so many different technologies that she could not understand. It leaves her feeling dizzy, disoriented. But she has no time to dwell on it.

She always felt she had been born before her time. That she would be somehow happy in the "_future._" That people would accept her, her ideas would be respected. She would be hailed a genius. She would receive the credit due to her, in spite of the fact she was a woman.

She is frustrated beyond belief, even a century later, to find herself cast in the shadow of her idiotic useless brother. It was a fate she had never readily accepted. She tells herself to let it go, times have moved on. And there was little point dwelling on it now. It wasn't like she could walk the streets in this day and age, proclaiming to be HG Wells. She would be institutionalised on the spot.

Something stirs in her, a twinge of pride, to see her name is still recognised in this time. Years beyond her own life time, and her words, her legacy, had lived on. There was something rewarding in that, even if it was dampened by her brothers shadow over it all, leaving her nothing left to claim as her own. She asks herself if it was worth it? The choices she made, the things she had invested her time, her talent, towards. Everything that had happened in her life leading up to this moment. She shrugs that question off too, there was nothing she could do about it now.

The loneliness stings her. She is a little disappointed with the big wide world. She had endured years of solitary confinement in the bronze sector. Telling herself all the while that once she gets out- everything will be so different. It comes as a bitter shock to find that she is just as lonely as she had ever been in there. That it's worse in fact, because there are living people all around her, and she just can't connect with them on any level. She doesn't really want to. They are strangers. The world has moved on, further even than she had dared to dream. She has no place here.

In this mystical "future" she had envisioned it had not occurred to her that she would be utterly alone. It had not occurred to her that if she woke somehow in this magical future, she would have only one goal- to get back to the place she belonged. The place she had been taken from, the time she should have lived in, should have died in.

She found herself wandering the old city. Something had drawn her to the quaint place. It was familiar. If she closed her eyes for a moment she could almost believe the clock had been turned back a hundred years. There was something so comforting about the place. She wandered aimlessly, watching for many days. It was there, purely by chance, she caught a glimpse of the woman. Impossible, yet unmistakable. Helen Magnus. The Helen Magnus. Not a descendant, a distant relative who bears a remarkable resemblance. Helen Magnus was one of a kind. And HG Wells knows from her own predicament, it's not entirely impossible for someone to be standing here many years after they should have died. HG Wells knows all too well that nothing is impossible.

She laughs aloud uncontrollably, delirious with the sensation of having found someone known to her. And of all the people to be left standing, unchanged by time, that it should be she and Helen Magnus, is great cause for amusement. That strange feeling, of being known to someone, of being understood, is enough to make her forget entirely the rather unfortunate circumstances under which she and Helen parted ways many years ago.

_Helen Magnus_

It is not often that something catches Helen Magnus completely off guard. That something takes her entirely by surprise. That something, or rather _someone_, stops her heart beating. Leaves her standing there, helpless, breathless, speechless. Utterly bewildered.

The lifetime of Helen Magnus had been a long one, a lonely one. She had loved, been loved, and been left alone- time and time over. Loss is familiar to her. The burning, stinging, searing pain of grief. Loss is inevitable when you have the so called '_gift_' of longevity. A burden that simply has to be carried. And she has endured more than her share.

The thing that is not familiar to her- is having something restored. That is a concept which simply does not fit within her world view. Something she had never experienced. Something she had never expected- even though, if her life's work had taught her only one clear shining indubitable lesson- it was this one- _'Expect the unexpected'_.

But it is simply beyond her comprehension that something, rather _someone_, from another place, another time, another lifetime, might deign show up on her doorstep. Someone that undoubtedly does not belong in the here and now, in this dismal life. A place Helen finds herself abandoned in, left behind by all those she had once considered peers. Surrounded by very well meaning people who simply don't understand her, nor where she has come from.

People have become complacent in this day and age, thinks Helen. Everything is handed to them on a platter. The wonder is gone, the drive, the creativity, the passion. Or perhaps she is merely getting old, weary. She feels that there isn't anything left that can touch her in this life. Nothing left that can astonish her. She is already dead on the inside, just going through the motions.

It's a sunny day, like any other, when Helen finds herself feeling bored. Weary. Decidedly and alarmingly- old. She finds the warmth of the suns rays make her ache on the inside. She finds she has no purpose, as she watches the younger staff at the Sanctuary- thinking to herself that they are more than capable without her. Not one among them would miss her. Not one among them truly needs her now. She was loved, appreciated perhaps, even revered. But desperately needed? No. She can see no purpose, and the weight of that, after a lifetime of being needed, presses down on her. She finds herself stepping back, little by little, from the sanctuary, from life, from the people around her. She looks in front of her, wondering just how many years she has to live, without her daughter, and she thinks to herself that she can not stand even one more day.

But she is Helen Magnus, mighty and strong. And so she smiles, so she keeps putting one foot in front of the other, without purpose. . Almost as if she is waiting for something.

That's exactly how she feels, this particular morning, as she stands atop the sanctuary roof, watching the sun creep over the city. She stand, still, motionless, just watching. Just _waiting_. For something to tear her gaze away.

She has been standing for hours, she knows this by the position of the sun in the sky, when she hears the voice behind her, calling her name. It's a voice she has not heard for many years. A ghostly whisper of someone long vanished. A voice she never expected to hear again. And yet, she has no doubt at all as to who the voice belongs to. It is unmistakable.

Helen wonders, at first, if she has died. Somehow, without noticing, she has ceased living and entered the world of the dead. If she is surrounded now by all those people she has lost along the way. But it begs the question- of all the people she had loved and lost along the way, of all the dead she longed to be reunited with- _why her?_

Helen draws in a long painful breath that leaves her aching all over. She is still breathing. She looks out over the sunny city, the world is still turning. She is not dead, she is certain of this, and perhaps a little disappointed.

The second thing that occurs to her, is that she has finally gone mad. This seems more plausible than the dead theory. She was hallucinating. Hearing voices. Too many hours standing out in the sun. But the question remains– W_hy her? Why now? After all this time..._

A calm silence has fallen over her. She has all but convinced herself she imagined the voice in the first place. She has all but convinced herself she is alone on the roof top, feeling sorry for herself, wasting hours idly staring over the city, just waiting for something to reach out and touch her. But she can not shake the feeling that she is being watched. If she holds her breath for a moment, she can hear someone else breathing. In fact, she can feel the warm breath against her skin on the back of her neck. She can almost hear the other woman's heart beating. And still, she hesitates a moment before she turns around. Almost as if she is afraid that if she turns around, the other woman will have vanished. She will find that it is all a cruel trick of her imagination.

As she turns, tearing her gaze from the cityscape, finally having a reason to snap out of her trance, she catches sight of the woman standing before her. Standing so close they are almost touching. Almost, but not quite.

Helen is rendered speechless, the color has drained from her face. And yet it wasn't merely the shock of the unexpected arrival of someone who had died many decades ago. It was more the unexpected pleasure of finding that her own heart was still beating, that she felt for the first time in years- truly alive. This was enough to make her forget entirely the circumstances under which the two had parted a lifetime ago.

Helen takes a step back. Subconsciously. Not because she is afraid of anything. Because she is simply overwhelmed. Because she wants to take a good look at the sight in front of her. So precariously proximal to the edge is she, that she almost loses her footing. But the other woman reaches forward, taking her hand, pulling her close, steadying her.

"It's been a long long time, Helen." She says playfully. "Have you nothing to say to me?"


	2. Chapter 2

_**Chapter 2**_

Reality shimmers before her as she stands atop the sanctuary roof, staring into the eyes of a ghost. Yet the eyes of HG Wells are sparkling with life. The breeze is blowing HG's hair gently across her face. Helen stares at the other woman, intensely. As if she is afraid HG Wells will be swept away any second if she chances to turn her eyes away. As if this encounter will elude her if she does not burn the image into her consciousness.

"Why, Helen Magnus, I do believe I've rendered you speechless. I never thought I'd live to see the day." HG muses playfully. Her delight at having the upper hand, the element of surprise, is unmistakable.

"You never thought you'd live to see a day over one hundred years after you were born? I think that goes without saying." Helen Magnus manages to speak, although she doesn't quite succeed at keeping her voice steady.

"You're mistaken. I have always believed it was possible to bend the realm of time, Helen, you know that."

"What are you doing here?" Magnus asks. And it's not an accusation, it's not a demand. It's a softly spoken whisper of astonishment and curiosity. Nothing more.

Yet a flicker of agony flashes across HG Wells eyes. A flicker of loneliness, desperation, realisation that she isn't wanted. Not even here. But HG is quick to regain her composure, plaster a bright smile on her face, and to harden her gaze. It leaves Magnus wondering if she had imagined the moment of vulnerability. "I find myself in a spot of bother. And I do believe you owe me one hell of a favour, Helen Magnus." HG proclaims boldly.

"That's not quite the way I remember it. Nor is that what I meant with my question."

"Oh? You meant, how can a person you were acquainted with over a century ago be standing before you today?" HG clarifies.

"Something like that."

"And you, of all people, are asking me this?" HG scoffs.

"I'm asking." Helen answers firmly. She is frustrated at her own lack of understanding, frustrated at the way HG Wells has effortlessly waltzed back into her life. But there is concern in her tone, compassion in her eyes. She looks, long and hard, and tries to forge a connection with the woman. To re kindle a flame.

"Do you believe in time travel, Helen?" HG asks mischievously.

"Stop this at once. Stop talking in riddles. At least show me the courtesy of providing a straight answer." This, now, is a demand. Helen is losing patience. Apprehension is rising in her by the second, her chest is tightening, her head is spinning, even though she can not fathom a reason for it. She is trying to quell the anger threatening to overwhelm her. Anger she knows is misplaced.

"Poor Helen. I imagine it is a shock for you to see me. After all, you left me for dead over one hundred years ago." HG is still smiling, but there is underlying resentment in her tone. Deep painful bitterness. The kind that eats away at a persons soul.

Helen ignores the comment. Refuses to dignify it with a defence of her actions all those years ago. It was all such a long time ago. Water under the bridge. She stands tall before HG Wells, but she can feel all the color drain from her face as she is bombarded with memories from the past.

"Helen. You look so weary." HG observes, breaking the awkward silence.

"158 years of life will do that to you." Helen snaps back, unable to hide the trace of bitterness. It stings her that HG has all but informed her she looks old. It stirs an ugly feeling of envy in her to see HG Wells looking so youthful, so full of life and enthusiasm. It was the way Magnus had once pictured herself. She doesn't know where that person disappeared to.

"Really? I wouldn't know. The last century passed in the blink of an eye." HG waves her hand dismissively. As if all those years in the bronze sector meant nothing. As if she had not felt every single painful second grating upon her, tormenting her with the endlessness of her predicament. Yes, the burden of time weighed upon her heavily. But not in the same why it appears to have weighed upon Helen Magnus. Not in the way that left her exhausted, weary, old. More in a way that left her restless and invigorated.

"How fortunate for you." Magnus remarks.

And now the initial shock is dwindling, they are left with an insurmountable barrier of shattered trust and resentment between them.

"Are you going to offer me a drink?" HG inquires. And Magnus is certain she sees a flicker of desire in the other woman's eyes. But it is gone as quickly as it appeared, and Magnus convinces herself she is imagining things.

Helen watches the other woman, as she sits casually on the sofa, drink in her hand. To an observer it would appear she hadn't a care in the world. But Helen knows better. Helen looks closer. And behind all the overconfidence, the resentment, the playful teasing, she sees something deeply troubling looming over her old acquaintance.

"If you want my help perhaps you should begin by explaining the predicament you find yourself in." Magnus suggests.

"I've had the unfortunate experience of many decades imprisoned in the bronze sector."

"The bronze sector?" Helen asks, confused.

HG can't help the laugh that escapes her lips. "Oh, this is simply wonderful. To sit before Helen Magnus and know something that she doesn't know."

"If you're quite finished gloating about your superior knowledge, perhaps you can continue."

The smile vanishes, and a cloud of darkness sweeps over HG Wells. "The bronze sector is a place worse than death. A place where human beings are frozen in time. Trapped for eternity. A place darker than anything you could imagine. Where you are alone, fully conscious mind you, but utterly alone with your thoughts, your fears. A place of helplessness and terror. Never ending torment..." Her voice trails off as if she is lost in another time, another place.

Helen Magnus does not know what to say. She moves closer to the other woman, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. She notices HG's trembling hands, and she places her own hand reassuringly over the top. HG is still, silent. Magnus reaches forward, brushing the hair from the other woman's face, gently lifting her chin so that she is able to meet her gaze. "Helena?" She asks. But the other woman only stares blankly ahead, lost in a dark, faraway place. "You're safe now." Helen whispers softly to her, still stroking her hair.

After minutes of eerie silent stillness, HG Wells inhales deeply, shrugging Helen's touch away.

"Go on then." HG prompts her.

Helen Magnus only looks perplexed.

"Go on and ask what it was that I did that led them to bronze me."

Helen only waits silently. She wants to ask, she wants to know, oh so many things. But she lets HG Wells tell the story in her own time.

"Do you think it matters?" HG asks. "Do you think there is anything that any human being could do that would justify that kind of torture?"

"No." Helen answers. "I don't. It's barbaric. Unconscionable."

"Then it doesn't really matter what I did, does it?" HG concludes, pouring herself another drink.

While Helen agrees that nothing would justify that kind of punishment, curiosity is eating away at her as she is left to wonder what happened all those years ago. She wants to know who are these people who invented such a cruel and unusual punishment. She wants to know how HG escaped. But she holds her tongue, waiting for HG to finish.

"So, obviously, I've managed to escape. And rather unfortunately some people are not altogether thrilled about this. They are hunting for me as we speak. As if I were an animal. To send me back to that place."

"What people?"

HG laughs again, bitterly. "That's the ridiculous thing, isn't it? These people who think they have the right to hold my life in their hands, they weren't even alive a hundred years ago. They wouldn't have a clue what it is I've allegedly done that warrants being tormented for eternity. And yet they are so convinced it's their duty to hunt me down, to lock me up. So convinced they are right, and I am wrong. Isn't that absurd?"

"You'll be safe here." Helen tells her. "You can stay as long as you want." The words slip out without any thought. It's an instinctive need to protect the other woman. A need to believe she is worth fighting for. Magnus gives no thought to the safety of the others at the sanctuary, or the kind of trouble she might be inviting into her life by asking HG to stay. She only knows she can not turn her back on the woman. The woman who once she had considered a friend. Infact, once considered far more than a friend. No matter the things that had come between them over a hundred years ago, she can not turn her back and leave HG Wells out in the cold now.

"Don't make promises you can't keep, Helen. I would have thought you'd learned that lesson by now." HG chides her gently.

"I promise I will do everything in my power to keep you safe." Helen answers, her voice strong, full of conviction.

HG turns to her then, and Magnus sees a lost little girl. "Why would you do that?" She asks, And for the first time during the entire encounter, Magnus sees sincerity in the other woman's eyes. For the first time she feels like she is looking straight at the woman, straight through her. For the first time she feels they have re connected.

Helen only shrugs, smiling. She knows the answer, but she isn't able to articulate it.

"I don't expect you to endanger yourself to protect me." HG explains."But I will ask you to promise me one thing."

"And that is?"

"If they come here looking for me, promise me you'll kill me before they can send me back."


	3. Chapter 3

**Dedication :**

_**1. **For 'mayireadtoday' who inspired this fic, and for generally being supportive and inspirational with everything i've written. Someone who opened Helen Magnus up to me in a whole new light (and Ashley). Someone who has always taken time to encourage and give feedback, not only to me, but to so many people. And who is an incredibly creative person with the most amazing story prompts and ideas. You're amazing, and this is for you. _

_**2. **Also for Tonya Buchanan, another dear friend who has never stopped encouraging me and believing me, and has helped me to explore HG Wells in a way I was never able to. I adore you and I can't wait til you visit Australia! I can't tell you how much your friendship means to me. _

**AN:**

_**1.** I've always been fond of "HG" as opposed to "Helena", so I make no apology for my heavy use of the term! Plus, for the purposes of Sanctuary/Warehouse crossovers, it is less confusing than Helen/Helena. Though I do like Magnus, and Magnus alone, calling her 'Helena'. (I am also partial to "Magnus" as opposed to "Helen" so there you go.) _

_**2.** I am the worlds worst updater, but this fic has been floating around in my head for so long. It was never intended to be particularly graphic. It was always going to be more subtle, I hope that wont disappoint. I do adore HG too, be patient with her, she isn't a spiteful as she appears, she is just a little lost. _

_**3.** Thankyou for all the people who have taken time to read and leave feedback here on on LJ, You guys are awesome, and it means the world. Comments are love. _

_Xo CC._

_**Chapter 3 **_

Helen is more than a little stunned by the request.

"Well?" HG prompts her, "Do I have your word?"

"You just cautioned me about making promises I can't keep." Helen responds.

"I see, I suppose you'd rather see them haul me away, back to eternal torment." HG is behaving like a petulant child, and yet Magnus looks deeper. Sees the fear, the pain. Understand better than anyone how time and loneliness can magnify ever horrific thing.

"It won't come to that." Magnus assures the other woman, not quite able to meet her in the eye. Silently she answers inside her head, _No, Helena, that isn't what I want at all. _

"Going to keep me safe, are you Helen?" Comes the bitter challenge from HG Wells.

"I told you, You can stay here as long as you need. Don't make me say it again."

"They will find me." HG whispers those four words so softly that Magnus isn't certain she even heard them.

"That's a rather negative outlook. A defeatist attitude. Certainly not the Helena I remember."

"That person you remember died a long time ago." HG asserts. She stands to her feet, pacing the room. HG Wells felt much better to be moving. Better by far than the eerie stillness of bronzing. Or the discomfort of sitting under the scrutinising gaze of Helen Magnus.

HG casts her eyes over the photographs on the fireplace. At least a dozen pictures of the young blonde girl. The girl with those unmistakable Magnus eyes. She reaches forward, picking one of the picture frames up in her hands. A picture of the girl, and Magnus. But not the Magnus standing in front of her now. The photograph depicts a happier person. Someone more...alive. She hears Helen Magnus draw in a sharp breath, but she says nothing.

"Your daughter." HG Wells states rather than asks.

"Ashley." Magnus answers her in a hollow, heartbroken voice.

"She's lovely." HG comments.

"She is." Magnus agrees.

"So, Helen Magnus has a daughter?"

"Had." Comes the pained answer.

"I'm sorry." HG tells the other woman, sincerity and empathy in her tone. Though she can't bring herself to make eye contact. Her own pain is still so raw over losing Christina.

"I can't tell, from these photographs..." HG begins, and she turns from the picture to the real life woman standing before her. She studies her face. How long ago was this picture taken? It was impossible to tell. "You don't look a day older than when we last met."

"I might say the same about you, Helena."

"The agony in your eyes is fresh, as if it was yesterday. But it always will be, i'm sorry to tell you. Even one hundred years does nothing to lessen the pain."

"It was six months ago." Magnus answers, abruptly snatching the photograph back and tightening her grip around it.

"I am sorry, Helen. What happened to her?" It's concern in her voice, mingled with a little curiosity perhaps. But HG Wells isn't deliberately trying to cause the other woman pain.

"She's gone, that's all. She's not here any more. I don't have any other explanation."

"Tears your heart out, doesn't it, Helen? You want to keep them safe, more than anything. That's what you want, that's your job, your purpose. But you can't do it. You would give your own life for hers, but you can't. I'm sorry about your daughter. More sorry than words could ever express. I don't wish that kind of pain on anyone. But maybe now you see, maybe now you understand. Maybe now you wont be so hasty to cast judgement on me, to tell me what a terrible person I was. What a terrible mother."

"I never said that to you." Magnus answers. "Ever."

"True. You never said it, no. Other people said it. Not Helen Magnus. Helen Magnus didn't have to say it. It was written all over her face. Every time she looked at me. Judgement. Blame. Disgust."

"I assure you, you are sorely mistaken, I thought nothing of the sort." Magnus answers with a twinge of irritation in her voice at having to defend herself.

"It matters little now. It was so long ago. Another life time. And fear not, I wont do the same to you. I'm sure you tried your best to protect your daughter. Everything in your power. I _know_ you did. It's what a mother does. But, sometimes, that isn't enough. And you never forgive yourself for that, Helen. It never stops being wrong, to outlive your child. There is never a day you wouldn't do anything to change the past. Perhaps now you finally understand me a little better?" HG asks almost hopefully.

"I always understood you perfectly." Magnus asserts confidently. It's a blatant lie. HG perplexed her, exasperated her, surprised her at every turn. But she wont give HG the satisfaction of knowing that, convinced that she does derive satisfaction from it. "I hand picked you, I trained you, I taught you everything you know, crafted you in my own image. I understand you better than you would like to believe, dear girl."

"Is that the way you really see it, Helen? That _you_ picked _me_, that _you_ moulded _me_ in your image? I find that amusing."

"Is that so?" Magnus asks absent-mindedly.

"Indeed it is. So , Helen, I'm curious to know just how you promise to keep me safe. Me, who you despise..."

"I don't despise you, Helena." Magnus interrupts involuntarily. She isn't certain that it matters anymore. Nor does she wish to spend one more second of her time explaining herself and her actions to HG Wells. The words just slipped out. And Magnus is irritated that she let it happen. Irritated she gave HG the satisfaction. Helen Magnus has to bite her tongue to keep from saying _'I don't despise you, Helena. Far from it.' _

"...When you couldn't even keep your own beloved daughter safe." It's not a malicious accusation from HG, it's a simple statement of fact.

The words sting, they slice right through Helen Magnus. But she can not bring herself to be angry at the other woman for speaking the truth. Not when her own suffocating insidious guilt is pressing down upon her so heavily, eating her alive. As it turns out, she doesn't have to be angry, anyway.

"How dare you?" Comes the booming voice from the doorway as Will announces his presence.

HG is far from intimidated though, which Magnus finds understandable.

"Well hello there little boy." She greets Will, before turning her gaze to Magnus, amused "Is this your boy toy, Helen? He doesn't seem your type."

Choosing not to dignify that with an answer, Magnus says nothing. And there stands Will Zimmerman, sweet and young and full or life, defending her.

"Will, We have company." Magnus informs him.

"Pleased to meet you, I'm HG Wells." Helena had always taken delight in proclaiming her name. Magnus found it strange, and a little endearing, that the woman chose to use her initials to refer to herself rather than her name.

Will response is a snort of laughter. "HG Wells? Very funny." He answers her.

HG joins in his laughter, turning to Helen. "Oh dear, is this your latest protege? What are you teaching the poor boy?" With her outstretched finger she beckons Will closer. "Boy, come here. You have a lot to learn. I know this because I once sat at the feet of this great woman, and learned all I know from her. Many decades before you were born, of course."

"HG Wells?" He repeats in disbelief.

"Yes, Will." Magnus answers. "I believe I mentioned on a previous occasion that HG Wells and were..." Magnus chooses the word carefully, trying hard to remember just what she had shared with Will. There were things best left private, and she wasn't big on sharing intimate details about her life, but sometimes it was just irresistible, the look on his face. At least it had been, before she lost Ashley, back when she still had the capacity to find amusement in such things. She clears her throat "I believe I mentioned that HG Wells and I were... acquainted...back in the day."

"I assumed you meant Herbert George Wells..."

HG waves a hand dismissively "There is no such person. The man posing as Herbert was my idiot brother Charles, long dead now of course. He couldn't string a cohesive sentence together if his life depended on it. Reminds me a little of you, boy, come to think of it." HG muses.

"And so you are HG Wells, the famous author from over a century ago?"

"I am." HG answers proudly, a gleam in her eyes. Something Magnus hadn't seen there for a long time. Something carefree, unspoiled. "Are you familiar with my work? Or is it too much to suppose you _can_ read?"

"HG Wells is a woman?" Will asks incredulously.

"Yes, don't act so surprised. Many great people of the world happen to be woman. It wasn't accepted back then, of course. Hence my idiot brother posing in my place."

"So you expect me to believe you are HG Wells, _the HG Wells_? From over a hundred years ago?" Will asks in disbelief.

"Helen, where _did_ you find this boy?" HG asks. It's an echoing of Ashley's words upon her first meeting with Will, and it stings Helen fiercely. It makes her hate HG Wells all over again in that moment, just for being here, being alive, when Ashley is not.

"Yes Will, This is HG Wells, famous author, my former protege." Magnus explains wearily.

"Uhm...excuse me, but doesn't that make you...Pretty old?" Will can't help but ask.

"Born in 1866, I suppose that might make me old by your standards." HG concedes. "You're not familiar with my books at all then, are you?" HG asks.

"I'm to believe you have some sort of time machine?" Will wants to know.

"Because that notion seems to unbelievable to you?" HG scoffs "Take a look at your beloved mentor. You don't believe it's possible to bend the realm of time?" HG demands.

"That's a little bit different." Will argues.

"Cheating time, cheating death, it's all the same thing." HG shrugs. "And let me tell you, it's not all it's cracked up to be. Is is, Helen?"

"Will, leave us." Magnus instructs.

"No, wait a minute." Will protests. "I don't care who you are, or how old you are, you can not come in here and start saying things about Ashley."

"Will." Magnus warns him, in her sternest voice. "Go."

Will wavers in hesitation.

"How sweet, the boy wants to protect you from big bad HG Wells." HG smiles to herself.

"Will, please. Leave." Magnus is almost pleading not. Almost, not quite. Because Helen Magnus does not really do 'pleading'.

After Will has reluctantly left the room, Magnus motions to the sofa. "Sit." She invites HG Wells. Although it's more of a demand.

HG complies with the request. Magnus continues. "You are welcome to stay here. And I will do everything in my power to help you. God knows it's more than you deserve. But you are not, under any circumstances, permitted to speak to me about my daughter. Is that clear?"

"Touched a nerve, have I?" HG asks with a glimmer in her eyes. It's not a glimmer of evil, or hatred, or resentment, or anything of the sort. Magnus knows it. It's something dark, something born out of the other womans own anguish. It's something almost child like, almost innocent, almost afraid. Something almost making Magnus want to reach out and embrace HG Wells. But there is still more than a century of unresolved anger and pain between them. And, yes, HG Wells has touched a nerve. And Helen Magnus is struggling to maintain control, to maintain at least the pretence she has the upper hand. And so, it is not a reflex, the way Magnus reaches out, and slaps the other woman, hard, across the face. It's carefully thought out. Considered. Intended.

HG Wells does not look stricken in the least. She does not flinch. She does not waver. She speaks though, slowly, confidently. "By the way, Helen. '_Ashley'_ is a very interesting choice of name."


End file.
